


in due time

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Rings, Cock Worship, Established Relationship, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Draco might be the one on his knees, but it's Harry who's at his mercy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 23
Kudos: 276





	in due time

**Author's Note:**

> the october 24 prompt for kinktober 2020 is— _orgasm control_.

“Does it feel alright?” Draco asks softly, tugging down on Harry’s balls and relishing the sharp gasp that earns him.

Harry’s cock, which is shining with the lube Draco carefully applied before slipping the cock ring on, is slowly getting harder under Draco’s ministrations. From his position on his knees, Draco can see Harry’s knuckles whitening as he tightens his grip on the duvet.

They’re in their bedroom, Harry with his legs as wide as Draco could push them, and the morning light had just started to filter in through the curtains when Draco snuck out of bed to retrieve this little _surprise_.

He sits back on his knees and tilts his head to examine what he’s done, pleased with the view. Harry’s cock, by now fully hard, has a deep navy band at the base, and a second ring around his bollocks. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, and with a wave of his hand cleans off the lube, then takes it to the back of his throat with no preamble.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” Harry swears from above him, and Draco gives a pleased little hum when Harry’s hands dig into his hair.

He slides up along Harry’s shaft slowly, then licks over the head until Harry’s panting harshly. Draco pulls back and drags his nails along Harry’s inner thighs, smirking at Harry’s hiss. “You have such a _pretty_ cock, Harry—especially when it’s all wrapped up like a present for me,” he says, blowing on the head.

Harry’s cock twitches—if it weren’t for the cock ring, he probably would have come already, but instead he’s harder than Draco’s ever seen him, weeping precome that Draco’s quick to lap up and swallow, exaggerating his moan for the look in Harry’s eyes.

Draco gets to his feet and crosses to their wardrobe, studiously focusing on picking out their outfits and ignoring the sounds he’s making as he fights to get himself under control.

Draco had brought up the idea of Harry wearing a cock ring all day a few weeks ago, and he still gets hard thinking about how Harry’d held him down that night and fucked him so slowly he was crying and begging for release at the end.

Well, now it’s his turn.

When he turns around, Harry’s managed to calm down, but he’s still hard—and since this particular toy is magical, it’s spelled to ensure that someone can wear it for extended periods of time and suffer no ill-effects, he’ll have that erection all day. Draco licks his lips, thinking about Harry squirming through meetings and assigning out fieldwork with his subordinates none the wiser.

He drops their clothes on a chair and strides back over to the bed, pushing his pyjama bottoms off and bracketing Harry’s thighs with his legs. Harry leans back onto his elbows and watches with a dark gaze as Draco spells some lube onto his hands, then starts to stroke himself off.

His eyes rove over Harry’s chest and torso, imagining painting the ridged muscles and chest hair with his come. Harry’s cock is twitching again, the head turning purple, and the navy blue of the rings offsets his skin so deliciously that it’s not long before Draco is coming onto Harry’s stomach with a cry.

Harry’s breathing hard again as Draco comes back to himself, and Draco can see the trembling in his muscles—he’s holding himself very still, likely in an effort to keep himself from spelling the cock ring off and taking himself in hand.

Draco smirks and stoops for a swift kiss. “See you later,” he says, then whirls to dress himself and get out the door before Harry can tackle him onto the bed.

* * *

Draco drops by Harry’s office before Harry even makes it in for the day and, through the judicious application of expensive pastry and flattery, is able to convince his secretary to reschedule Harry’s second-to-last meeting for the day, a full forty-five minutes on his schedule, and not say anything about it. 

Draco’s distracted all day, watching the clock so he knows when Harry will be out of the office and he can sneak down before the meeting-that-isn’t; luckily, Magical Games and Sports is suffering a post-World Cup planning hangover, and the offices are quiet, his employees walking around in a daze that can only come from being suddenly relieved of the object of their intense focus for the past six months, so he doesn’t have to worry about missing anything important.

Finally, the clock ticks over to half two, and Draco slips down to the DMLE, winking at Harry’s secretary, who rolls her eyes and pointedly casts several Silencing charms at Harry’s door (so perhaps they’d forgotten a time or two; Draco can’t help it that he gets _distracted_ ), but lets him pass without comment.

Harry’s due back at three from his meeting with the Minister, so Draco spends the time tidying the office a bit for him, sorting files away and Vanishing the trash and folding up clothes that need to be taken home to be washed, then carefully moves everything off the desk and out of the way.

By the time Harry walks back into his office, Draco’s leaned artfully against the desk, one hand down his trousers—he’s flushed already, he knows, and when Harry freezes and rakes his eyes greedily up and down his body, Draco knows _exactly_ what he’s seeing.

“Hello, Head Auror Potter,” Draco purrs, crooking a finger and beckoning Harry closer. “And how has _your_ day been?”

“Oh god,” Harry whimpers, but he obediently drifts closer, yelping a bit when he’s in reach and Draco yanks him forward, spinning them and pressing Harry chest-down against his own desk.

Reaching around, Draco gropes over Harry’s trousers before undoing the fly and pushing them to Harry’s ankles, then drops to his knees and kneads at Harry’s arse.

He bites hard on one cheek, silently thanking Jenny for her foresight as Harry yelps loudly, then smacks his hands down on the desk. Without further preamble, he spreads Harry’s cheeks and dives in, licking around Harry’s hole until he’s whimpering and thrashing and begging.

He points his tongue and presses it inside Harry, just a little at a time, just enough so Harry’s thighs start to shake and his stomach clenches, but Draco knows that no matter how long he does this, Harry won’t come, _can’t_ come until Draco releases the ring.

Drawing back a bit, he pulls Harry’s hips back until he can get one hand on Harry’s cock, whispering to make his hand slick before he starts to pull slowly along the shaft, then gets back to Harry’s arse, shouldering his legs further apart to get even deeper.

He loses track of time, bringing Harry to the edge over and over, ignoring the discomfort in his knees as he licks and sucks and pours all of his love into what he’s doing, ignoring his own cock, which is pressing up against his fly in a very uncomfortable fashion, ignoring everything that isn’t _Harry_.

Harry’s crying by the time Draco pulls back, lying limp against his desk and taking great shuddering breaths. Draco admires the sight for a minute before pulling out his own cock; it’s only a few strokes later before he’s coming all over Harry’s arse. He takes some time to rub his come into Harry’s skin, then leans down, kisses the back of Harry’s neck, and whispers “Your next meeting is in fifteen minutes” before he buttons himself back up and leaves.

* * *

Draco had headed straight home, after that—no point in going back to the office, he’s not getting anything done today anyway. He calls for takeaway and puts the food under stasis in the kitchen, then wanders their home, straightening the shelves and spelling away any dust that may have settled.

When Harry’s due home, he heads to the bedroom, lowering the lights and spelling the temperature up a degree or two, then strips and lounges back against their mass of pillows, idly stroking his cock and playing with his arse, waiting for Harry.

Sooner than he thought, he hears Harry arrive through the Floo and immediately jog up the stairs. Draco smiles, spreads his legs, and arches his back _just so,_ giving Harry a hell of an eyeful when he steps through the bedroom door.

“God fucking damn it, Draco,” Harry moans, and he’s naked between one blink and the next, tackling Draco back onto the bed and kissing him desperately. “Thank _fuck_ today was slow; I can’t believe you left me like that earlier.”

Draco chuckles into Harry’s mouth, then rolls them until he’s on top and slides down Harry’s body.

Harry’s cock is almost purple, now, and it’s weeping precome again, and Draco takes his time, lapping slowly, worshipfully along the shaft, taking Harry’s balls one at a time into his mouth, tonguing over the head again and again, gathering saliva in his mouth and sinking down until he’s gagging and drooling over Harry’s cock, nose pressed to Harry’s pubic hair.

Harry’s speechless; it’s not often Draco’s able to render him this incoherent, if he’s honest it’s normally the other way around, but right now all Harry seems capable of is hitched breaths and loud, unashamed moans as his hands tug hard on Draco’s hair.

Finally, Draco sits up, spells the cock ring off, wraps his hand around Harry and tugs once, pressing his other hand’s index finger hard against Harry’s perineum. “Come,” he says softly, and Harry _does,_ with a shout and an arch in his back that almost looks painful.

Draco strokes him through it, long past the point of discomfort and back into pleasure, coaxing Harry hard again as he slips one finger into Harry’s arse and finds his prostate, massaging it with his finger from the inside and his thumb from the outside. “Again,” he says, voice nearly a whisper, and Harry’s head thrashes back and forth as he spills over his stomach for a second time.

Tilting his head, Draco considers forcing a third orgasm, even presses down a bit harder on Harry’s prostate, but Harry’s eyes are glazed over, so he pulls out carefully and heads into the bathroom for a flannel. He takes care of his own erection quickly—normally, he’d draw it out, but Harry needs his attention now, so he can linger over the memories later on, then steps back into the bedroom and carefully cleans Harry off.

“Uhh,” Harry mutters, rolling onto his side when he’s clean and snagging Draco by the waist, pulling him down onto the bed with an undignified yelp he hopes Harry is too blissed-out to register. “Okay, you were right, that was a _great_ idea.”

Harry sounds like he’s falling asleep, so Draco pinches him. “Of course it was. And you can’t sleep yet; it’s only seven, and we need to go down and eat. I got that vile pasta thing you like so much, and a double order of garlic bread.”

“You’re a proper genius,” Harry yawns, but he sits up and stretches and shoots Draco a fond smile.

“I know,” Draco says smugly, turning the lights back up and tossing Harry a dressing gown. “Now get that fine arse down to the kitchen. I think you owe _me_ a little special attention later tonight, after all that.”

Harry leers at him, and Draco shivers.

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr post for this fic is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/633062539598708737/kinktober-day-24-in-due-time).


End file.
